Impulses
by soaring-smiles
Summary: He's been watching her. Night is when his control slips, when he does things he shouldn't. This one is no different.


He'd been watching her.

All night, though he'd rather regenerate than tell her that. But he can't tear his eyes away from her, and he wouldn't want to. Not with the way she's moving.

She laughs, eyes gleaming in the haphazard light that splashes across her features. One scarlet-nailed hand reaches up to smack the man she's dancing with playfully on the shoulder.

His stomach tightens, he tenses on the seat, fingers clenching into the soft leather. Lazy admiration turns to bitterness, and he sits upright, staring at them darkly.

Should have known 21st century New York nightlife was a bad idea. But she'd begged, and he'd caved. As always. And now he's here, nursing a drink, and watching her flirt and play coy with another pretty boy.

Her teeth dig into her lip, painted red tonight, red as the dress she's wearing. Not that it's even a _dress_. It's so short it's practically illegal, soft flimsy fabric riding up on her thighs, each step she takes. And the neckline curves and clings to her breasts. He could barely speak when she'd walked out.

Only thought of bending her over right there and taking her against the console, there and then.

Her back is bare, as she turns away from him. The man leans in to whisper at her ear, and he can hear her slight giggle, the way she smiles, tongue trapped between her teeth.

_His_ smile.

Something low and heavy builds in him, the sharp tang of jealousy metallic in his mouth. All he can think of right now is that the git's hand is creeping lower, splaying out across the small of her back, fingers just brushing her bum.

He waits for her to push him away, to give him a tongue-lashing worthy of Jackie, but she doesn't seem to mind, keeping on dancing, slow sultry moves. The man licks his lips, and the other hand joins the first.

_Right._

Before he knows it, he's on his feet, stalking across the crowded ground to snatch at her hand, and pull her roughly towards him. She stumbles into him, and he automatically wraps an arm around her.

"Hey!" she protests, but he ignores her, holding her tightly.

"Sorry mate," the man says, "didn't realise she was taken."

The Doctor glares at him, then at Rose. Without a word, he spins, and half drags her out of the door, into the cold dark street. He pulls her down an alleyway, pausing half-way to let go of her.

She shoves at him, heels catching on the concrete, and she nearly falls. "What the bloody hell was that for?" she cries, hands on hips.

He sends another infuriated look her way, and steps closer, pressing her back until she's nearly touching the brick wall.

"He had his hands all over you," he growls.

"So? I can do what I like," she says, hands falling flat against the wall with a thump, as if to emphasize her point.

"What, act like a hooker? Thought you were better than that."

She gapes at him, fury building in her eyes. She's gone crimson now, and he can tell the flush extends all the way down her chest.

"Got it wrong then," he continues, voice low, "Just another girl willing to spend a night with a complete stranger, and for what? Pleasure? He couldn't give you that if he tried, Rose."

She's breathing heavily, almost panting, and he's unconsciously forced her into leaning against the wall, so he's towering over her, inches from her mouth.

"What, and you can?" she asks, a little breathily.

He smirks, moving even closer, so his words fall on her cheekbone. "Been around the block, me. Reckon I know what I'm doing. More than that idiot at any rate."

He reaches out a hand, and lightly brushes a thumb across her lips. Her eyes flutter shut, and she leans into his touch.

"Reckon I could make you come just by speaking to you, like this. Make you scream my name. Me inside you, fingers, tongue, my cock," he purrs, and she reaches up for his mouth. He evades her, pinning her wrists to the wall.

"It's all _me_, see. Not him, nor anyone else."

"Doctor," she says, and her voice is somewhere between dizzy and sin. He's never been more aware of just how small she is below him, how vulnerable. And how much he wants her. He's already hard, straining against his trousers.

"Say it. He's nothing, compared to me." He doesn't know where the words are coming from, only that they're making her nearly melt, and so he keeps going. "You're mine, not his. _Mine_."

"He's nothing, Doctor, honest. Don't want him. Only you."

He lowers his mouth abruptly, kissing her hard, forcing her lips to part, and then pushing his tongue in, to taste her. She makes a sound in the back of her throat, not quite a whimper, and he releases her wrists to tangle in her hair, crushing her to him, half trying to sink into her.

He feels her heartbeat thumping in her chest, can smell her arousal, hears the gasps she makes. She's a sensory haven, reaching out to fill every part of him.

All he can think is 'Rose'; he's been completely consumed, and doesn't mind in the least.

She meets him as best she can, tasting and nipping, scraping her nails at the back of his neck, but eventually she's just opening beneath him and moulding herself to him, as he tries his best to steal her breath away.

As suddenly as he leant in, he pulls back. She's dazed, and he feels a strong rush of pride. He did this to her, made her lips swollen and hair mussed. She looks up at him, and he can almost feel the promise of what's to come.

It's almost enough to get rid of the image of some other man's hands on her. Almost.

Not quite.

He catches her mouth again, pressing into her, arm wrapped around her waist and bringing her hips flush to his.

She starts as she feels him hard against her stomach, and kisses him with renewed passion, standing on her toes to reach better.

Not breaking the kiss, he slides one hand down to cup her arse, over the silk, and squeezes possessively. She bites at his lip, sucks the pulse point at his neck, and he shudders.

He draws back, knowing his eyes have gone dark with lust and want by now. He needs to be in her, to claim every part of her, to make sure she knows who she belongs to.

It's black without the streetlights, but he can see. He can see her at least, and that's enough. "How far we going?" he asks, nipping at her lower lip, before trailing his mouth over her neck and to her collarbones, to her chest.

"I-" she falters as he moves lower, pushing down the neckline of her dress, "I want..."

The dress falls down to pool at her feet, him pushing down the thin straps, and running his gaze over her body.

No knickers, she's completely bare, shoulders pressing against brick. Perfect, down to every detail. He licks his lips unconsciously. Later, he'll taste his way down her body, but for now, he just wants to make her shatter.

"Want what, sweetheart?" he asks, brushing his palm over her breast, listening to her gasp.

"Want you," she manages.

"Doimg what? This?" A thumb brushes over her nipple, and she nods and then shakes her head frantically, breath hitching.

"Or...this?" He leans down, and circles her other nipple with his tongue. She makes a stifled whimper, and the sound shoots straight to the throbbing between his legs. He does it again, gets the same reaction.

"Or maybe...this?" And two fingers runs down her stomach, brush past the coarse hair, and slip inside her. He's almost surprised at how ready she is, and wonders if she'd been turned on by that other man. The thought makes him practically growl.

She squirms, trying to get his hand to move. But he holds still, keeps looking at her. She's beautiful, smooth skin and he loves every inch, from her legs to her stomach to her shoulders.

"Doctor," she begs, bucking into him, eyes wide and pleading.

"I'm the only one who gets to do this. Ever. No one else." He's not sure whether he's talking to himself or her, but she nods.

"Yeah. Yours. Promise," she reassures. "Please, Doctor?"

He withdraws his fingers to circle around her clit, making her jerk, and then slips them in again. He sets up a rhythm, rubbing and then pushing in and out, fingers soaked. She fists her hands against the wall, white knuckled.

"Look at you Rose," he murmurs. "Undone, completely lost control. An' it's me who's doing it. You're like this because of me."

Every movement, every hurriedly muffled noise makes him harder, if that's possible, and it's almost painful.

Her whimpers and sounds grow louder and more frequent, her hips lifting and her head tilts back, eyes squeezed closed. She's completely at his mercy, laid out for him.

"Only me," he repeats, roughly, and she moans. "Only me."

She cries out, and he shoves a hand over her mouth, blocking her sounds. She's clenching around his fingers, coming so hard it startles him, flying over the edge, soaring. He keeps up the movements until she rides out the last of it.

She stills, trembling, with his palm still cupping her. Opening her eyes, her hands creep down to his trousers, finding the clasp, and undoing it easily.

She finds his length through his briefs, and he can't stop a little gasp, a shudder that twists its way through him.

"Against a wall?" he grinds out, and she gives him that smile, with her tongue, the one that twists his insides and makes him think thoughts he probably shouldn't. "Sure?"

"Yeah," she says softly, and he wastes no time, shucking his underpants, and leaning in for another kiss, clutching at her like he's drowning.

She strokes him, tentatively, and he jerks into her, circling his hips instinctively. Another half moan passes his lips. He sees her smug little smirk, and wanting to wipe it off her face, hauls her up, so she's half suspended.

And with a smooth, sharp thrust, he's inside her. Her mouth opens, and she clings to his shoulders. It's like being sheathed in fire, wet and slick and hot. He can't stop himself thrusting again, in and out, and he groans heavily with the sensation.

He can't care less, that people are walking metres away, that this is public, in a city, that they could be discovered. That only adds to it. All these people, they'd see she's his, and he almost needs that, this physical affirmation of belonging.

Her legs lift and circle his waist, and she buries her head in his shoulder, biting down, nails digging down into his skin, as her orgasm builds.

"Oh Rose-that's..." he groans.

She rolls her hips, and he finds the perfect angle, sinking in and out, hitting that spit exactly, so she mewls and bucks up against him, as he rubs against her clit with each stroke.

"Fuck," he moans, in and out and in, slamming into her, fast and hard, making her lose coherency. "That-feels..."

And she climaxes again, spasms and rocks, eyes squeezing shut, trying to stop herself from making a sound, but his name slips out, a whimpered, breathless exclamation of pleasure. She's so tight around him, he nearly topples over.

It sends a burst of lust through him, and he loses his steady rhythm, thrusting erratically and deeper.

"You. Are. Mine." He punctuates each word with a thrust, pumping and withdrawing, as he spirals closer and closer, breaking and slipping and-

He comes with her name and a hiss, jerking and spilling and losing himself in her. He sees stars, touches them too, burns in them. It feels like forever before the tremors subside, and he's back on Earth, still in her.

"Rose," he murmurs, pressing a kiss to her temple, stroking her hair.

An unsteady moment, and he slips from her, letting her down softly, and holding her to him, something dangerously close to contentment glowing in him.

"That alright?" he asks, hearts pounding, balance not quite right yet. He watches carefully for her answer, half-scared he's overstepped the mark.

"God yeah," she says, with amazement and something bordering on...love? A quick brush of her lips against his cements her answer, and he allows himself a manic, fantasic grin.

He pulls up his trousers and briefs, before helping her with her dress, drawing it back up her shoulders, taking a moment to admire her, mussed and blushing and screaming of sex.

Of him.

He kisses her tenderly, lazily, hands cupping her cheeks, and resting his forehead to hers.

"Wanted that for..." he begins, and laughs slightly at himself. "A long time."

"Me too," she says, and her eyes gleam, her mouth pulls up into a beam. "Can we go home?" she asks, twining her fingers with his, sending hima playful, affectionate glance.

He tries to hide the burst of pleasure that she sees the TARDIS as home, and nods. "Got a few ideas, have we?"

She nudges his shoulder. "I do remember someone telling me something about using his tongue..."


End file.
